by Penny Reid
. . . but I wanted to.
The potency of my response wasn’t necessarily unexpected, but it did have me questioning our next steps.
Was now the time to tell her about my self-imposed celibacy? If so, should I also tell her about how, due to my past, I’d vowed to wait until marriage? Or was a first date too early?
I was good at bluffing and flirting, but I now realized I didn’t truly know how any of this worked, how dating and long-term partnerships were sustained. When was too soon to discuss this stuff? When would it be too late?
We drove to The Front Porch engaging in surprisingly easy discussion given my internal debate. Though if you’d asked me what we talked about later I sure as hell couldn’t tell you, only that when she laughed at something I said, I felt twenty feet tall. And when she reached over and ran her hand down my arm, I wanted to pull the truck over and spend the rest of the night on the side of the road kissing her.
The fogginess departed as we pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. Ultimately, I decided to bring up my past and resultant decisions when the time felt right. No need to rush.
She was talking about something that had her excited, and I forced my head out of the clouds. I didn’t want to miss it.
“Comic books,” she said. “So, you read them?”
I realized this was the second time she’d asked the question. I’d been too distracted to answer properly the first time.
“Yes. Used to sneak them in and read them at night when I was little. My momma was a librarian. She approved of the classics and not much else.”
“Well, today I received a call from my manager because I’ve been asked to write the script for Smash-Girl, the movie. GAH!”
“That’s great.” And I meant it. “I know Smash-Girl, got into her after I finished all the Smash-Boy I could get my hands on. You know many consider her eye candy and nothing more. But they’re wrong.” I withdrew my keys and grabbed my cell from its holder on the dash.
“Exactly. That’s how I feel. I love that her powers are similar to, but different than Smash-Boy’s. That when she grows angry, she maintains her ability to reason. It’s such a great allegory for how women and men actually are in life.”
“I don’t know about that.” I scratched my neck, having not given much thought to the allegorical implications of Smash-Girl. “But I will say this: as far as superheroes go, she’s way up there.”
“Yes.” Sarah’s grin was huge. I tried to not get lost in her dimples and mostly succeeded. When I lifted my eyes back to hers, I saw she was trying not to get lost in my grin.
I reckoned we were both in danger of becoming lost in each other, and that was fine by me. It was still early, way too soon to be having thoughts of the long-term, but I imagined what it might be like to come home to her every day. Her soft curves, deep dimples, dark eyes; her blunt sensuality and seductive honesty.
It would be like winning the lottery of life.
But I was getting ahead of myself.
Here the date hadn’t even really started and I was thinking on our future. She lived elsewhere and, for all I knew, wasn’t keen on staying after the movie wrapped. The last five years had addled my mind.
Or maybe it’s been preparing you, making you deserving of her . . .
Getting hold of myself, I disentangled our gazes and moved to exit the truck. But she stopped me with a light touch on my leg. “I have to tell you something.”
“Okay,” I nodded once. “Shoot.”
I saw she was nervous, locked in an internal debate. It must’ve been heated because Sarah gathered a deep breath and fisted her hands.
Then, on a sudden rush, she said, “My name isn’t Sarah.”
I cocked an eyebrow at her. “It isn’t?”
“No. When you asked, that first day, I had my hands in front of my face and my response was garbled. You heard Sarah, but I said . . .” She appeared to be winded. I watched her gather another large inhale and force herself to release it slowly, saying, “Sienna.”
I continued looking at her, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, I asked, “Is that it?”
“Yes. That’s my name. Sienna is my name.”
I grinned at her and her new name, deciding it fit her perfectly. “Nice to meet you again, Sienna.”
Her eyes widened with what seemed to be wonder as they moved between mine, her mouth hitching to the side. Then she frowned again, shaking her head like she was clearing it.
“There’s more.”
“Oh?” I asked, unconcerned.
“Yes. You asked me before if I were an actress and I said, ‘I’m a writer.’ That’s true. I am a writer. But I’m also an actress.” The look she gave me was bracing as she added, “I just wanted to clear that up.”
I nodded again. Again waiting for her to continue. And again asking, “Is that it?”
“Yes. My name is Sienna, and I am a writer and an actress. That is it.”
“Okay.” We watched each other. When it was clear she expected me to say something else, I added, “Sounds good.”
At that, Sienna released a heavy sigh of obvious relief, “Thank you. Thank you. I was so afraid—” She cut herself off, pressing her lips together and shaking her head. “Just, thanks for not being angry.”
“Angry?” I scoffed, frowning at her like she was nuts. “Why would I be angry? You should be irritated with me, calling you the wrong name for over a week.”
Not waiting for her response, I exited the truck and crossed to her side. I opened the door, reaching my hand out to help her down, but she was changing her shoes. My eyes drifted to her legs, happy to have a reason to stare at the shapely calves as she pulled on black high heels.
“Nice shoes,” I said, the compliment slipping out. I hoped there’d come a time when she’d wear just those shoes for me and nothing else. In fact, I filed that thought away under my to-do list.
“Thanks.” She grinned, flashing her dimples as she finished. “I’ll let you borrow them if you want.”
That made me chuckle and I offered my hand again, taking hers as she climbed down from the truck. But this time I didn’t let her go, instead threading our fingers together as I closed the door. As much as Cletus had irritated the hell out of me this morning, I decided I was going to forgive him. His interference had brought me to this moment.
I took just two steps before Sienna tugged me to a stop. “So, uh, this place we’re going . . .”
“The Front Porch.”
“Yes. Is it very crowded?”
I shook my head. “Shouldn’t be. Middle of the week isn’t their busiest time. Though I think the high school PTA might meet up here on Tuesdays.”
“And it’s mostly locals? People you know?”
“We get a few tourists, but it should be mostly locals. Shall we?” I asked, bringing her close to my side.
Sienna gave me a big smile and nodded once. “We shall.”
Hand in hand we walked into the restaurant, and that’s when everything went spectacularly wrong.
We were getting looks.
Jackson James, deputy sheriff, did a double take as we strolled in the door, and Hannah Townsen, the hostess, gawped at us. Her mouth fell so far open she might’ve been catching flies. A hush fell over the crowd like a wave gradually retreating from the shore.
Now everybody was staring.
At first I thought this was because of me. I hadn’t been seen stepping out with a woman around town in years. Most folks assumed Claire and I would be getting married eventually. Hence, I presumed these fine people were surprised to see me with someone new. I’d never corrected the assumptions because I never considered my friendship with Claire to be any of their business.
I frowned my disappointment at the two closest gaping faces: Kip Sylvester, the high school principal, and Ben Huntsford, owner of Big Ben’s dulcimer shop. I’d expected better of them, better than gawking at me and being rude to Sienna by association. I bent to her ear, about to apolog
ize for their odd behavior, when a shriek interrupted me.
“Oh my God!”
Both Sienna and I turned to find Naomi Winters approaching us, her eyes wide. But she was staring at Sienna, not at me.
“Oh my God. You’re Sienna Diaz!” Naomi was now fiddling with her phone, trying to turn it on and hastening to get her words out. “I just love you. I love all your movies. You’re one talented lady. Can I have a picture? Oh, this darn phone.”
I frowned at Naomi, who I’d known since I could remember, and pulled Sienna slightly behind me.
“Naomi, see here—” I began, but Kip Sylvester rushed forward and cut me off, along with half of the high school’s parents and teachers.
“It is such an honor to meet you.” Kip pulled Sienna’s hand out of mine and shook it with enthusiasm. “Can we have your autograph?” he asked, though he didn’t wait for her to respond before thrusting a napkin and pen into her hands. “Can you make it out to Kip? K-I-P, like Catnip.” He grinned at his joke, which sadly made no sense.
“S-sure.” Sienna scrawled her name on the napkin, handed it back to Kip, and another was placed in her hands.
She’d signed five before I came to my wits, but it was sixty seconds too late. People I knew surrounded us, people I’d grown up with, people who’d been at my surprise birthday party last week. But gathered like they were, demanding and greedy for her attention, they looked like strangers.
Not helping matters, everybody was taking pictures. It was a mess of shouts for her attention. Flashes went off from every direction.
What in the ever-loving hell is going on?
I tugged the sixth napkin away from her and shoved away, giving my neighbors a stern frown and pulling her into my arms and against my chest.
I yelled over the crowd. “Now see here. Y’all need to go back to your seats and mind your manners. We’re trying to go out to dinner, and I can’t even put my name in.”
“I wrote you down, Jethro,” Hannah said from the hostess stand. “We’re putting you two in the back, away from all the crazies.”
A few of the said crazies protested, and I lifted my hand to keep Kip and his teachers from coming any closer. “I’m not telling you again, Kip. Take a step back. Sarah isn’t here to sign napkins. She’s here to eat dinner.”
“Who’s Sarah?”
I gritted my teeth, tightening my arm around her shoulders. “Sienna. I meant Sienna. Now y’all need to go sit down, ’cause she’s signing no more napkins.”
The crowd began to grumble, as though they’d been disenfranchised, but then Sienna lifted her sweet voice over their grousing. “Thank you for your kind welcome and exuberance. I’m so honored. But before I sign any more autographs or take any more pictures, I have to admit I’m famished.”
“Say that line from the movie,” someone called, rudely interrupting her and making my blood pressure spike.
I glanced down at her, saw she was flashing her dimples, working the crowd. I realized with no small amount of discomfort that the same smile she’d used to make me feel twenty-five feet tall earlier was being shared with these people. She was charming them, working the room, much like she’d charmed me every time we were together.
“I promise I’ll stay and sign all the napkins,” she said, winking at Kip and making the grown man blush. “But for now I’m going to have that steak I’ve been hearing so much about.”
She held them captivated as she continued making promises, all the while towing me after her to the hostess stand and eventually to the kitchen where a table had been set up. I recognized our waiter as Devron Stokes. We’d gone to high school together and he was a frequent visitor to The Pink Pony. He pulled out her chair before I could, offered Sienna her napkin, and placed his hand on the back of her chair as he recited the specials.
That is, he had his hand on the back of her chair until he caught my eye, then he promptly removed his hand. Likely because I was silently communicating my desire to remove it if he came anywhere close to touching her again.
Clearing his throat nervously, Devron gave me a stiff smile. “Haven’t seen you out with a woman in years, Jethro. Not since Kitty Carlisle our junior year of high school.”
Ignoring his gossipy comment, I ground out, “How about you get us the wine list, Devron? And some privacy.”
“Uh, sure thing. I’ll be back quick.”
“Take your time.” My mind swam as I stared at my date.
She, too, looked like a stranger.
I watched her swallow, studying me, biting the inside of her cheek. “How are you holding up?” she asked, like I’d been the one mobbed by my neighbors.
“I’m real sorry about all that.” I gestured to the main restaurant. “I wouldn’t have expected them to—”
“Don’t worry, I’m used to being swarmed. It happens all the time.”
“It happens all the time?”
She seemed to regret her words as soon as I echoed them, because her face fell and she swallowed again. “Well, not all the time. Just when I go out in public.”
“Oh,” I said stupidly, horrified.
“Except by you. You’ve never swarmed me.” Sienna gave me a sweet, hopeful smile and reached her hand across the table, palm up, an invitation for me to take it.
Before I could, Devron was back with bread, but without the wine list.
“I promised myself I would be cool and wouldn’t say anything—”
“Then you should keep your promise,” I grumbled.
He ignored me, continuing, “But I have to tell you how much I love your films. And you are amazing. And so much more beautiful in person.”
Sienna pulled her hand away, and I watched a mask slip over her features as she dealt with Devron, giving him a warmly polite smile and thanking him for his kind words.
While she was thanking him, all I could think about was getting him alone so I could beat the shit out of his presumptuous and rude ass. I clenched my jaw, knowing the violence of my thoughts was directly related to how unexpected and disorienting the events of the last few minutes had been.
I’d been blindsided.
Here we were, wanting to have a quiet dinner, like any two normal people. Ten minutes ago I was making long-term plans, thinking about coming home to her every night.
And now . . .
Now I realized, I had no idea who she was.
CHAPTER 10
“It's so much darker when a light is lost than it would have been if it had never shone.”
―John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent
~Jethro~
Our evening did not improve.
We didn’t get a chance to speak again. Even though they’d put us in the kitchen—so, great ambiance—we had no peace. The cooks came over, the manager, all the waiters and waitresses. Everyone had their picture taken and their stuff signed. Three hours into dinner and she’d had only three bites.
I didn’t know where I fit. Sienna seemed at ease, talking to everyone like it was her job, making them feel special. I supposed it was her job. Regardless, she was a natural.
When we finally left, I had to do some fancy driving because several people tried to follow us. I lost them on the wildlife ranger-only trails, locking the gates after me so they couldn’t follow me to Hank’s cabin on Bandit Lake. I assumed she didn’t want anyone knowing where she was hanging her hat.
Once we lost the last of the hangers-on, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’m sorry,” she said, drawing my attention to her. It was the first time she’d spoken since we got in the car, having silently understood I needed to concentrate on driving in order to lose the folks following us.
She looked sorry. And worried.
“Why are you sorry? You didn’t interrupt your own dinner for the last four hours. Did you get enough to eat?”
“I’m sorry our date didn’t go as planned. I’m sorry I didn’t tell everyone to back off. I should have. I should have—”
“No. Thos
e are grown men and women, they know better. You were just being polite.”
“I didn’t know what to do. Everyone seemed to know you.”
“I’ve known those wackadoodles most of my life, and I had no idea they were that nuts.”
This made her laugh, but I was serious.
“Well, I didn’t want to seem rude, not to your neighbors and friends.”
I nodded, checking the rearview mirror to make sure we weren’t being followed before I turned on the gravel circle for Bandit Lake. “I get that. That was kind of you, but next time you have my permission to tell them to take a flying leap.”
This seemed to ease her mind. “Okay. I will.”
We pulled into Hank’s driveway and I cut the ignition, taking a moment to soak in the silence. It had been so loud at the restaurant. The quiet felt like a gift.
“Next time we’ll go someplace with no people.” She shifted in her seat, drawing my attention to her, giving me a coaxing smile. I studied the smile, couldn’t decide if it looked sincere or rehearsed.
And that thought troubled me. I was good at reading people and their intentions, but only if I wasn’t too invested. Once invested, I couldn’t separate what I wished to be true from what was actually true.
Saying nothing, I exited the truck and walked to her side, opening her door. I offered her my hand, which she took and held on to with an iron grip. Still lost to my thoughts, I escorted her up the steps to the porch, trying to decide whether I should ask to come in.
Mostly, I wanted to talk. The evening’s events had been overwhelming, so a post-game analysis felt in order. Plus, I still felt like I didn’t know her at all, not anymore. And I wanted to fix that before leaving for the night.
Facing her, I gathered her arms in my hands, needing the connection, and began, “Sienna, look, I was hoping—”
I didn’t get any further because the front door opened unexpectedly and a dark figure came at us. He was holding a gun.
So I did what anyone who’d just had my night would’ve done. I pushed her behind me to protect her, and punched the assailant in the face, kicking the gun away as he fell to the ground. The man landed hard and with an audible grunt.